


Obey Me! Shall We Date? One Shots

by diavohno



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Angst, Crack, Fluff, One Shot Collection, smut??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:54:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23516512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diavohno/pseuds/diavohno
Summary: A little collection of all of the one-shots I write either on my own or because they're requested. You can request things on my Tumblr @diavohno :)
Relationships: Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Comments: 29
Kudos: 481





	1. netflix & cuddles (mammon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alternate title: the brothers are being mean to mammon again :(

“So, what do you want to watch?” you ask the white-haired demon seated next to you as you flick through Netflix. Silence meets your question, causing your attention to shift away from the TV to Mammon, who seems uncharacteristically lost in thought. “Mammon?”

“Wha–” Suddenly startled from his thoughts, Mammon’s head whips towards you, his eyes wide. After a second, he recomposes himself and slouches back into your couch with his trademark smirk plastered onto his face. “Why don’t you pick, human? The GREAT MAMMON has graciously chosen to let you decide.”

“Grease it is,” you say decisively, clicking the show open while a tiny, content grin makes itself comfortable on Mammon’s face. The movie begins, but neither of you seems to be paying much attention to it; Mammon is too busy spiraling back into his thoughts, and you’re too busy worrying about him.

You had made your opinion on how the brothers treated the second oldest known long ago, but other than give them dirty looks whenever they did and scold them after, there wasn’t much you could do to change it; after a few millennia, they had become rather stuck in their ways. That didn’t stop you from trying, though.

It didn’t take a genius to notice how Mammon’s faux balloon of confidence deflated with every insult that was spit from his brothers’ lips, or how his genuine smile, once he had done something he was proud of, would be replaced with a fake one once he was taunted for it. Just thinking about it made your blood boil. No one deserved to be treated like that and especially not from their own family. Sure, Mammon is hard to handle at times, but so is everyone else. Plus, he’s the demon of greed, for crying out loud, what else would you expect.

A sad sigh slips out of you as you watch Mammon’s face as carefully as you can. His gaze hadn’t left the floor for nearly five minutes, and there was a slight furrow in his eyebrows. The grin that he had earlier had disappeared long ago, and now his teeth had preoccupied themselves with running themselves over his bottom lip, again, and again, and again.

It hurt to see him like this.

Today was probably the worst day that you’ve seen Mammon have while you’ve been in the Devildom. Not only did his newest modeling gig back out on him due to time concerns with him being a student, but his latest attempt to swindle a coven of witches unsurprisingly failed. Word somehow got back to Lucifer, like it always seems to do, and next thing anyone knows, Mammon is being strung up along the staircase once again “to help him learn his lesson.” Brother after brother passed by him on their way to their own rooms, and while only a few of them took verbal jabs at him, none stopped to help him down in fear of Lucifer putting them on the wall too.

Unluckily for the prideful first-born, you were a human whose heart was much stronger than your survival instinct.

As soon as the others were gone, you freed Mammon from his role as a wall fixture and snuck him into your bedroom. You knew Lucifer wouldn’t dare mess with the two of you there because his unnaturally strong devotion to Diavolo would keep him from doing something that would make you poorly reflect on your time in the Devildom. Plus, Friday nights were always movie nights for you and Mammon, and you were not about to break that tradition.

That brings you back to the present situation–you very well know the exact thoughts running through the head of the demon next to you. They were something along the lines of: “I really am nothing more than scum”, “how dumb can I possibly be?”, and “why can’t I change?”

You know because those are the exact words that the others always taunt him with.

Whether it be because of the ever-growing ball of rage burning deep within your gut, the fact that Mammon currently looks like a kicked puppy, or a mix of both, you somehow find yourself filled with the urge to lift your hand up from your lap and place it on top of the tanned hand next to you on the couch. Apparently, the urge was so strong that you had done just that without even realizing it.

Instantly ripped from his thoughts, Mammon’s head whips over to face you. “Wh-what do ya think you’re doing, human?”

“Hm? What do you mean?” you ask innocently as your face pinches in fake confusion.

“Nothin’,” Mammon grumbles, more to himself than to you. Despite his complaining, you don’t fail to notice how he doesn’t move his hand away. In fact, the blushing demon subtly flips his hand over so he can interlock your fingers together, which you pretend not to notice so he won’t move away. You’ve learned that touching Mammon is like touching a frightened deer–you had to pretend that you didn’t notice him creeping closer, because if he knew you knew, then he’d run away and pretend like it never happened.

An inkling of pride rises in your chest as you watch his blush darken from the corner of your eye. As a naturally touchy-feely person, you had wanted to wrap the second-oldest up in your arms from almost the first moment you had met him, yet his adversity to any and all forms of physical contact initiated by you effectively kept you from doing just that. It confuses you to no end because anyone with half a brain can tell he’s crushing on you, yet every time you make any move towards him he pushes you away like the little baby deer he is.

Basically, he’s cockblocking himself and is frustratingly good at it.

A shifting of the couch cushions catches your attention, and because it takes all of your willpower to not turn to face the demon who is casually sliding closer to you, you fail to stop a smile from breaking across your face. Whether he notices and chooses not to say anything or is too caught up in nervousness from what he was doing, you’re not sure, but your smile manages to go unmentioned.

At this point, you’re definitely feeling dangerously cocky. In fact, you are feeling so cocky that you, too, begin to scoot closer on the couch and quickly bridge the gap between yourself and Mammon. Soon enough, your shoulders are pressed together, which leaves Mammon uncharacteristically quiet. Oddly enough, he remains quiet for a good duration of the movie. The only reason that you know he hasn’t fallen asleep is that his cheek eventually came to rest upon the top of your head, meaning he was most likely a wide-eyed, blushing mess.

Minutes later, as if he had to be as close to you as possible to draw up enough courage to speak, Mammon breaks the silence. His voice is soft, yet his words press down on your heart like a weight. “Do you think I’m scum?”

“Of course not!” The words tumble from your lips without a second thought, and you find yourself pulling away so you can look him in the eyes. Well, you try to look him in the eyes, but as soon as you pull away his eyes glue themselves to the floor. “Mammon, you are literally one of the sweetest people that I’ve ever met. You don’t outright say it, but I can tell that you care a lot for your brothers, and I know that you’d do anything for them because that’s who you are.

“Yeah, you’ve got your faults, but everyone does! Your brothers out of ANYONE should know that because they’re in the same boat that you are. You don’t deserve to be treated like you are, Mammon. You have such a big heart, and I think that is so admirable.”

Mammon’s grip on your hand had steadily grown tighter as you were talking, yet his eyes remained locked onto your floor. Then, ever so quietly, his lips parted to let the words, “Thank you,” fall out.

“Of course, Mammo.” You run your thumb over his knuckles, which earns you a sheepish grin. Fueled by the success you’ve gotten so far, you flop backward on your couch and turn on your side towards the TV, making sure to leave space between you and the back of the couch. “Now let’s cuddle and watch the rest of the movie!”

“Okay,” Mammon mumbles as he positions himself behind you. While you’re busy being surprised that he actually went along with your cuddling demands, Mammon goes a step further and wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer. Although both of you are thankful that the other can’t see the intense blush coating your cheeks, neither of you move for the rest of the night. In fact, at some point, you both fall asleep, and you are only woken up when there is a purposeful knocking on your door, followed by Lucifer’s sickly sweet voice asking if you knew where Mammon had disappeared off to.

That wasn’t the first time you had lied to the first-born, nor would it be the last.


	2. instigation (mammon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alternate title: mc is getting fed up with mammon's bs

Mammon… is not one for PDA. Scratch that–he’s not one for PDA initiated by _you_. As long as he is the one grabbing your hand, ruffling your hair, or the like, he’s completely fine, but that moment _you_ try to peck _his_ cheek or hold _his_ hand, he becomes a flustered mess and shuts you down. Most of the brothers aren’t fans of PDA either–other than Asmo, you think–but Mammon’s case is a little unique.

In addition to the fact that your own boyfriend won’t let you so much as look at him in public, he also still tries to play things off like he doesn’t like you ~~, which makes him look even more like a dumbass than he normally makes himself look, but you digress.~~ You’ve been chalking it up to him ‘protecting his masculinity’ and have gone along with it thus far, but today you’ve reached your breaking point.

After the two of you had spent a good portion of your Saturday on a date in town, you were about ready to fight someone. You had been denied the privilege of holding Mammon’s hand a grand total of five times, yet he was free to pull you around as he pleased. Time and time again, you would subtly begin to slip your hand into his, but the moment you made skin contact Mammon would rip his hand away and begin going off on a tangent about something stupid, like how the clouds were an unusual color today.

You wish you were kidding, but he honest to God started rambling about the cloud color.

The clouds are always the same color in the Devildom.

Deciding enough was enough, the cogs in your head begin to turn as you start to plan your payback. It was one thing if Mammon simply wasn’t comfortable with PDA at all, but the fact that he’s gone as far as to physically lift you off the ground to keep others away from you leads you to believe it’s more of a mental barrier than anything. A mental barrier that you are going to be forcefully launching him over today, if all goes well. It wouldn’t be anything too drastic–you’re not an asshole–but you’re sure that by the time your work is done Mammon is going to be a blushing mess. Ideally, all you’d have to do is give his butt a little squeeze in front of Lucifer or something.

You can envision it now: Lucifer would give you some snarky “I’m smarter than you” response about how you should do such acts in private, but you know that’s just because he’s frustrated Diavolo never grabs his butt. You pity the poor man, really. Thirst doesn’t look good on him.

An opportunity to carry out your dastardly plot presents itself much quicker than you ever could have hoped. You had retreated pretty quickly to your room after dinner to get some homework done, and after a solid hour of mind-melting worksheets and readings, you decide to take a break and make your way into the common room. 

Lo and behold, there stands Mammon with his back to you! Unsurprisingly, he’s busy ranting his cute little head off to Asmo and Satan about some new scheme to make money. Neither of them seems to be interested in listening to the second oldest whatsoever, not that you blame them. More than once, Mammon has tried to convince you to join a pyramid scheme that he had been roped into, but you’ve been able to dodge that bullet so far. The moment you enter the room the captive audience lights up so eagerly that you have to quietly shush them before they announce to the entire Devildom that you’re here.

“Are ya even listen’ to me?” Mammon grumbles, eyebrows knitting themselves together in frustration as it finally begins to sink in that his brothers aren’t the least bit interested in whatever plan he was letting them in on. “Fine, but don’t come crawlin’ back when I strike it ri–”

His words choke themselves off the moment you capitalize on the chance to wrap your arms around his slender waist. Sputtering in surprise, Mammon tries to wriggle himself free from your arms, but being the ever-knowledgeable girlfriend that you are, you had expected that and had firmly anchored yourself. Without giving him any time to collect himself, you nuzzle your face into the crook where his neck meets his shoulders, satisfaction rolling down your body when you feel him involuntarily shiver as your lips brush against his tanned skin.

You pointedly greet the other two with little more than a murmur as you gently squeeze Mammon’s waist in your arms. Sparing a glance over to the younger brothers present in the room, you’re rather pleased to see that Satan has preoccupied himself with a book, which means that he has no interest in whatever you were about to get yourself into, and that Asmo is watching the both of you with a devilish grin. You’ve complained to Asmo many times about how his brother interacted with you in front of others, so you’re sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that he knows exactly what’s going on.

In fact, you’re pretty sure he flashes you a quick thumbs-up before he sidles into a more comfortable position on the couch.

Indecipherable stammering draws your attention back to the man trapped within your arms. A look similar to Asmo’s spreads across your face once you see the violent blush that has exploded on Mammon’s cheeks. The reddish tint is even more pronounced due to being framed by his white hair, and before you can help yourself to let out a soft chuckle.

“Hey there, Mammon,” you say quietly, a sly grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You had never in your wildest dreams thought it’d be this easy to get your boyfriend to fall apart.

Blue eyes find yours, and you’re quite honestly caught off-guard by the mix of intensity, sheepishness, and heat that are swirling around in them. The two of you have only gone as far as a couple heated make-out sessions, but the look he’s giving you right now is drawing you dangerously close to stepping over a line.

However, you have come here with a purpose, and you’re determined to see it through to the end. Without breaking eye contact, you press a soft close-mouthed kiss to the area you had been hovering over before slowly retracting your arms, taking care to trail your hands over his body as you pull away.

The way he shivered as you did so made something akin to pride swell within your chest.

Mammon turns around to face you and begins to reach out to re-establish contact with you almost instinctively, but you simply take a step backward. Before you back out of the common room, a cheery, “Just wanted to see how you all were doing!” falls from your lips before you essentially skip away towards your room, content with all that you had accomplished today.

Mammon’s ruddy face has already ingrained itself in your mind, and as you close your bedroom door behind you, you can’t help but imagine the heated intensity you had seen earlier in his gaze. In fact, you could have sworn that you felt his eyes boring holes into your back as you left him behind, and it’s likely that he watched you for as long as he could. A shiver of anticipation rushes down your spine; there was something about the way Mammon had looked at you that had set off a series of warning systems in your head.

Not warning systems signifying danger, oh no. These were warning systems for _yourself_. You backed your instigating booty out of the common room much sooner than you would have liked because you knew that if you were around Mammon while he was emanating sub vibes any longer that you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from jumping him then and there.

There have been other times where you’ve had to excuse yourself, but it’s never been because of such a tension-filled moment. No, you normally have to leave because for some reason unbeknownst to you, Mammon had done or said something stupid and you found yourself getting worked up. Like, picturing him sprawled out beneath you on your bed, breathless and waiting for you to do something, _anything_ , kind of worked up.

Leave it to you to be attracted to a moron.

By now, your own cheeks are properly flushed, and you thank your lucky stars that you had been strong enough to hold the blush back for as long as you did. Your relief is short-lived, however, as a particular white-haired demon swings your door open. Mammon’s blue eyes immediately meet your own as he hurries to shut the door behind him. As the door closes, he moves towards you and quickly takes you into his arms, his face burying itself into your neck much like what you had done to him minutes prior.

You wrap your arms around him silently, your thoughts racing at a mile a minute. You’re taken aback from how suddenly he had appeared even though you had a sneaking suspicion that he’d follow you after the stunt you just pulled. For a while, neither of you say anything. At some point, you move one of your hands from his back to the nape of his neck, gently running your fingers through his hair. Warm air fans against your neck as Mammon lets out a contented sigh, loosening his arms ever so slightly.

“What’s up, Mammon?” you say, your voice much lighter and more breathy than you expected. Without any thought, he answers, although you strain to hear what he says due to how muffled his words are against your neck. Familiar shivers shake your body and you can’t help but remember how Mammon had quivered under your touch earlier.

“You left me.”

You find yourself swallowing to clear up a sudden lump in your throat. The words themselves were heart-wrenching, but something about the way he said them gave you some other impression. “I did.”

It’s then that Mammon finally meets your eyes once again, and when he does you’re rendered speechless at the pure need that is staring back at you. You mindlessly cup his cheek with one hand, and he instantly melts into your touch, clinging onto your hand to keep it pressed against his burning cheek.

“Please keep going.”


	3. "You're burning up." (leviathan)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by a prompt requested on my Tumblr account. soft mans hours

“Have any of you seen Levi recently?” Your question is met with uninterested shrugs as the brothers around you busy themselves with their breakfasts. After a few moments’ pause and still no actual answer, you try again. One of them _has_ to know what’s going on with the third-oldest. “I’m kind of worried about him. He hasn’t come out of his room in a while.”

“He’s probably just into a new game or somethin’,” Mammon says with a yawn, his lanky arms stretching high above his head before he rises to his feet. He then turns to you with his typical mischievous light in his eyes. “C’mon, MC! Let’s get going!”

“I…” you push your food around on your plate while you decide on your answer, “I think I’m going to check on Levi first. Just to make sure he’s okay.”

Mammon huffs out a ‘suit yourself’ before sauntering out of the house. A twinge of irritation bolts through you as the heavy front doors slam shut. It’s been at least a week since Levi’s been out of his room, and while you know he tends to disappear when he’s interested in something new that’s come out, it’s never taken him a week to return before. You can’t quite shake the feeling that something is off.

“It’s not often that I agree with Mammon, MC, but Levi’s fine.” Satan’s voice is one of the last that you expected to add on to the situation, but that’s exactly what he did. And good God does that set you off. You aren’t angry, no, but the fact that they can all casually dismiss your concern like this does feel somewhat belittling.

Not wanting to hear anymore, you quickly push yourself to your feet and excuse yourself.

It doesn’t take you long at all to make your way to Levi’s room. Pausing outside of Levi’s bedroom door, self-doubt begins to overpower your concern. What if the brothers are right, and Levi is in the middle of a game right now? He’d be really upset if you interrupted him, you just know it, but then again, what if he’s not okay? With none of his other brothers too concerned about him, then you should definitely check to make sure he’s alright.

Steeling yourself in case your concern isn’t warranted, you rap your knuckles lightly against Levi’s door. Almost instantly, you hear a croaking response. “What’s the password?”

The tiny flame of concern in your gut suddenly roars to a burning fire. The words sounded almost painful to get out, and as soon as Levi finishes speaking he breaks out into a coughing fit. You couldn’t get into his room fast enough, password be damned. Upon entering, the first thing you notice is Levi huddled under a blanket in his bathtub bed, his face flushed and profusely sweaty, which made some of his violet locks stick to his forehead. He doesn’t say anything and is simply watching you as you beeline towards the stupid bathtub. Why did he have to insist on not having a normal bed? He’s looking sick enough to have aches and heat flashes right now, and sitting in a porcelain bathtub certainly isn’t doing his body any favors.

“You’re sick,” you say in both finality and disbelief. Although it made sense that the brothers would be able to get sick, none of them had thus far in your exchange program, so you kind of assumed they were immune or something.

“No, I’m no–” Levi begins with a croaky voice, only to cut off abruptly when you place the back of your hand on his forehead to check his temperature.

“Levi, you’re burning up,” you sigh. At least he has the decency to avoid your eye contact in embarrassment. There’s no lie he could come up with to worm his way out of this now, and Hell would have to freeze over before you would decide to leave the man to go through his sickness by himself. You pull your hand away and shift a little closer towards the bathtub. “You can’t be comfortable there.”

Again, you receive no eye contact as his lips stay firmly sealed. So this is the game you’re going to play. Great. On the bright side, you aren’t being denied outright, so at least you have a chance to do _something_.

“Levi, let’s get you into an actual bed. Wouldn’t you rather be somewhere soft and warm?”

“I’m fine here.” The audacity of this man. He is ever the immovable object, but little does he know that you are an unstoppable force; a force that is extremely close to just hauling him to your bed by yourself. Sure, it’d be pretty hard considering Levi is a full-grown man, but by God would you try.

Fortunately, you’ve still got one last trick up your sleeve. It’s a bit of a dirty trick, but if it meant getting the man out of his bathtub and into a real bed, you’re willing to pull out all of the stops.

“You know, Henry would never leave his friend, the Lord of Shadow, if he needed help,” you say with a bit of a dramatic tilt. Not enough where what you are doing is obvious, but enough to tap into Levi’s instinctual reaction towards cliche anime lines. Just as you hoped, he rises to the bait.

“And the Lord of Shadow could never turn down his best friend,” he mumbles in what sounds like defeat. The thrill of victory rises in your chest, but you push it back for the time being.

“Exactly, now let’s get you into an actual bed.” After hearing no more protests from the man in the bathtub, you gently slip your hands under his armpits and help him to his feet. Once he’s upright, you’re faced with a new challenge–getting him out of the bathtub. The walls aren’t impossibly high, but high enough that he wouldn’t be able to clamber out by himself in his current condition.

After a moment of hesitation and a long groan from Levi, you settle on the first solution that had entered your mind. The decision is at the risk of you completely embarrassing yourself in front of your long-time crush should it not work, but drastic times call for drastic measures. In the span of a few seconds, your arms hook themselves behind Levi’s knees and back, and before he can even comprehend what’s going on you’ve already successfully swept him off of his feet. As the realization of his position sinks in, a nervous hum begins to thrum up in the back of Levi’s throat. One questioning glance from you puts an end to that instantly, although you find it endearing.

“Sorry, Levi, this is just the first thing that came to mind,” you softly explain, ending your words with an awkward chuckle.

“It’s fine.” Even though he mumbles the words, you hear them loud and clear. His mouth is close to your ear, after all. Suddenly, you remember the situation that you’re in–you are currently still carrying the sick Avatar of Envy bridal-style in his own bed room when he could probably walk just fine on his own.

“I should, uh, I should probably put you down now, huh?” As much as you’d hate to admit it, but you find yourself fighting to stop a blush from coloring your cheeks. Now is most certainly not the time, dangit!

The surprise that shocks your body when Levi basically whispers to ask you to carry him the rest of the way nearly makes you drop him to the floor anyway. He can hardly look at you right now, yet he doesn’t want you to set him down? You’d have to look out your window later to make sure the Devildom hasn’t frozen over. A giddy smile spreads across your face and you have no desire to even attempt to cover it.

You may be the least strong being living in the House of Lamentation, but the adrenaline coursing through your system at the moment lends you more than enough strength to allow you to stride down the hallway to your own bedroom whilst Levi lays snug in your arms, finesse the door open, and place him down on top of your bed. He begins to wriggle himself underneath your many bed sheets (what, you get cold sometimes.) Once you make sure that he’s comfortably tucked in, you start towards the door, only to stop in your tracks when you hear a croaky voice call after you.

“What is it?” you ask Levi in concern once you’ve whipped back around to face him, nearly tripping over yourself in the process. This time, a pair of amber eyes meet yours, and for once you find that you’re the one getting flustered. Had you been too eager? With the state you had found him in, could anyone blame you? You were doing this out of pure concern for Levi, nothing more!

Levi fiddles adorably with the end of your comforter before speaking again. “Can you please stay with me?”


	4. assumptions (satan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending they’re you.” + “Wait a minute … Are you jealous?” + “I can do whatever you want, babe.” and Satan
> 
> warnings; angst, minor hair-pulling, hickies, and implied smexy stuffs ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm crying I have eight other requests to do but I spent all my time popping off with a 2.6k Satan one-shot UGh. ANYWAYS hope yall enjoy this little love of mine, I worked hard on it so please treat it with care😊

Satan wasn’t supposed to have seen you and the other demon in the club, your back pressed against the wall and your leg hiked around his waist as his warm hands roamed free across your body. He wasn’t supposed to hear the light gasps that were teased out of you by hungry nips that left a trail of marks around your neck and bare shoulders. He wasn’t even supposed to be at The Fall, but there he was anyway, his distinctive aura of contained wrath screaming out his presence to everyone in the vicinity.

Your heart all but stopped when you finally noticed him. How long had he been here? How much had he seen? A chill quickly spread throughout your body as Satan turned around and just walked away, his face hauntingly neutral.

A displeased grunt from the demon suckling on your neck snapped you back to reality, and the booming bass and chatter from the crowd came crashing back into your awareness. While you had felt comfortable here moments before, the atmosphere now felt stifling and overbearing. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve made a mistake.” Your body moved on auto-pilot, pushing the demon off of you and stumbling after the blonde without a single thought. No, the only thought running through your mind was that you had to make it up to Satan. You  _ needed  _ to. Even as you were jostled to and fro by the club crowd, carelessly flung elbows bludgeoning your helpless form, no other thought came to mind.

It took much too long to make it to the doorway, and you cursed yourself when you found Satan to be nowhere in sight. Of course he hadn’t stuck around--why would he? If the situation had been reversed… 

Imagining it felt like a weight pressing down on your chest, threatening to press all of the air out of your lungs. The thought of some random demon pressing herself against his lean frame, her nails suggestively trailing lower and lower down his abdomen, whispering false promises and adorations into his ear, and knowing that it  _ wasn’t you  _ doing those things to him felt absolutely crushing.

But for you, it was different, because you love Satan.

And you certainly don’t feel that way about people you don’t love.

You were undoubtedly sure that he was returning home; it’s not often that he’s anywhere else this late anyway, so it only made sense that that’s where he would go. Also, you had come to learn that whenever he needed time to control his emotions, he would read--what better place was there to go than to his own room?

As you began your trek home, taking time to ensure you didn’t twist an ankle in your heels, angry tears started to prick your eyes. You had been selfish going to the club tonight, and you had been selfish to numb yourself with a stranger. More tears threatened to spill down your cheeks, and you let them. Without a doubt, you knew your makeup was thoroughly ruined and streaked, leaving markings to show your mistakes for the world to see.

Pebbles wormed their way between your foot and shoe, and multiple times you had to quickly catch yourself because you had misstepped and lost your balance. Maybe you should’ve left yourself fall--after what you had done tonight, you deserved it. Hell, you deserved so much worse than that.

That thought brought you to a stop. Did you really, though? Why were you so upset about having been found out? It wasn’t as if Satan cared, seeing as how he never made comments about how Asmo hits up the town on almost an every night basis. Maybe he was a little disappointed, and maybe he had expected better from you, but a little disappointment wasn’t anywhere near worth dragging yourself over hot coals for. You had gone to the Fall for yourself, after all.

The inner reassurance encourages you enough to resume the hike back to the House of Lamentation, all the while still thoroughly engulfed by your thoughts.

It had started with you tagging along with Asmo as a way of erasing the fourth born from your mind for a little while--you’d indulge in someone else, pretending that it was Satan’s lips moving with yours instead of the reality of the situation. It had never completely worked, but the distraction was nice, so you started to make more regular visits. Asmo was thrilled to finally have someone that he actually enjoyed spending time with tag along (Mammon took great offense to that statement and promptly declared that he had better things to spend his time doing anyway.) Eventually, you felt comfortable enough to fly solo, like what you had been doing before everything came crashing down.

For a while, it worked great! Whenever you got too down about your unreciprocated feelings for Satan, you’d hit up the Fall and find someone to distract you for a little while. You never slept with anyone, although there were days where you were tempted. Tempted to not return to the same place you knew  _ he’d  _ be. Tempted to see just what kind of reaction he’d give when he realized where you had been, and why. Tempted to hurt as much as you’ve been hurting  _ every. Single. Day. _

But you could never bring yourself to chase those temptations.

The same image of betrayal that gave you a fleeting burst of satisfaction also ultimately left you feeling hollow. The idea that maybe, just maybe, he’d be hurt by any action of yours filled you with dread. You knew, deep down, that you’d never be able to do that to him.

Then he saw you at the Fall and gave you that terrifyingly calm look, and you knew you messed up bad. Whatever had run through his mind when he saw you was a mystery, but even still you knew that you had messed up in the worst possible way.

At some point, you had reached the House of Lamentation. Other than your first day in the Devildom, before you had become accustomed to everything, you’d never really taken notice of it. Now, it’s towering size and dark exterior somehow stand out amongst the dark background like it’s a monument to your mistakes.

Shaking the feeling off, you slowly crept in through the door. Undoubtedly, Lucifer already knew you were out of the house, but the last thing you wanted right now was to sit through another one of his lectures. They tend to be much more pointed late at night, although they get done no sooner than the others, and your ego was rather fragile at the moment. So long as you could prolong the inevitable just for a few hours, you’d be grateful.

After slipping off your heels to minimize noise, you began tip-toeing up the stairs in the entrance hall towards Satan’s room. A gnawing anxiousness made itself ever more present in your stomach the closer you got to your destination, but you pushed it aside and pressed onward anyway. It was about time that you finally came clean, not only to him, but to yourself, too. Fighting the urge to walk away while you still could, you instead tapped your knuckles lightly against the door twice. Every second that went unanswered weighed you down, but you soon heard a low ‘come in.’

“It’s me,” you announced quietly as you stepped into his room. As per usual, you had to awkwardly guide your way around stacks of books, but by now you’ve become fairly skilled at it. Still, doing so meant looking down to make sure you weren’t about to bulldoze through some books, and looking down meant you weren’t looking at Satan. He remained silent the entire time it took you to find where you wanted to stand, and even when you looked up at him after, he didn’t say a word. Clearing your throat awkwardly, you jumped straight to the point. “You saw me at the Fall tonight.”

“I did,” he responded cooly, closing the book resting on his lap but keeping the page with a finger. “You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

The hidden venom in his words caught you off-guard. If you were anyone else, you would’ve thought you were simply being scolded, but you had come to know better. You noticed the hardness behind his beautiful emerald eyes and the slight clench of his jaw. Of course you had known he was upset, but you never would have imagined that he’d be  _ this _ upset about seeing you at a club--unless that wasn’t what he was upset about.

“Wait a minute,” you hesitated for a moment, unsure if your hunch was right. Well, you’re not going to find out if you don’t ask, right? And you  _ had  _ come here with the intention to put all of your cards on the table, so it didn’t make sense to hold back. “Are you jealous?”

Bingo.

Although Satan’s eyes never broke contact with yours, it was easy to see how his grip on his book tightened and his jaw fully clenched in anger. The understanding of just what that meant lifted all of your stress off of your back, and with that relief came an incessant yearning to hold him so you could erase everything that had happened so far tonight.

“And if I was? Would it make any difference?” he spat, unsuccessfully masking the bite in his tone. You involuntarily swallowed as he pushed himself to his feet, book long forgotten as it tumbled from his hold onto the floor. In just a few steps he managed to get close enough to lock his hands firmly onto your hips, and in just a few more he has you pushed up against a bookshelf. Your breath caught in your throat at the sheer intensity of his gaze and how you could physically see him unravel by the second, mind reeling at his close proximity.

His attention shifted from your face to your neck, and you could tell by the narrowing of his eyes that he’s taking in the myriad of hickies decorating your skin there. One of his hands left its place on your hip and moved upward to lightly press against one of your markings. With them being as new as they are, the pressure sparked a small amount of pain, causing you to suck in a quick breath through your teeth.

“Would being jealous make these go away?” he whispered, his warm breath fanning across your face. Without pausing to wait for an answer, his hand dragged further upward still until his thumb was able to run along your bottom lip while the other slipped behind you to press your body flush against his. It didn’t escape your notice how perfectly his body slotted against your own. “Would it change the fact that  _ his  _ lips were on yours?”

Just before you could grab his face to pull it just  _ inches  _ closer to meet your own, Satan caught one of your wrists in his hand. “Why did you come back, MC?”

The hand that was still free gently cupped his cheek; a curl of satisfaction twisted inside your chest as he subtly leaned into your touch. Your answer slipped out with almost no thought at all. “Because I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending they’re you.”

With those words, something inside Satan snapped, and next thing you know his hot lips are fervently moving against yours. The unbridled passion fueling the kiss caught you off-guard for a moment, but soon you were returning just as much as you were receiving.

He quickly dropped your hand so he could place his at the nape of your neck, tilting your head to give him better access to your mouth. With your heart racing but your train of thought completely derailed at the moment, you moved on pure instinct; both of your hands carded through his golden locks for a bit before grabbing some strands in each, the light tugs earning you some deep groans for your efforts. The sound sent a jolt straight to your core, and without thinking (which is something you’ve been failing to do a lot lately) you hooked one of your legs around his waist to draw him impossibly closer.

Never one to lose the upperhand of a situation, the hand on the small of your back shifted lower until it rested on your ass, where his fingers almost immediately dug in for purchase. As your mouth opened to gasp, his tongue darted in. The slick muscle immediately met your own, and the two wrestled for control until you finally relented; however, the battle must’ve taken longer than you realized, and you soon felt a burn in your lungs urging you to breathe.

As you parted, a thick strand of saliva stretched between the two of you. As gross as it was, there was also some part of you that found it oddly hot, like it served as a reminder of the bond the both of you were currently sharing. Your eyes took in the state Satan was in before you, and if you weren’t already flushed then you certainly were now.

Despite his emerald eyes being half-lidded, it was plain to see the heated desire burning behind them, and his cheeks were painted a pinkish hue, much like how you imagined yours to be. He heaved in a few heavy breaths before his mouth sought out the tender spots on your neck. It seemed like he was determined to cover up the marks the demon from the club had left.

This wasn’t right though--you had come here to apologize to  _ him,  _ not to have him dote over  _ you. _

“Satan.” His name came out much breathier than you had planned, but it can’t be helped when said man was sucking on your neck. All you get in response is a hum that buzzed against your neck, the vibrations sending a shiver down your back. However, you still needed his full attention, so you dropped your leg from its position around his waist and your hands disentangled themselves from his hair, sliding down to his chest so you could ease him off of you. He parted from your neck with a quiet ‘pop’ and a displeased sigh, but lifted his head regardless.

Suddenly, a wave of nervousness washed over you, and you found yourself struggling to say the words that were threatening to burst out of your mind. It was annoying that this was happening  _ now  _ of all times, as if you hadn’t done just as much with other men before, but maybe that was it--Satan wasn’t just any other man. He was the very man that you had spent a good few months nursing a wounded heart over.

Shit, why was this so hard?

Almost as if he knew what was running through your head (which he probably did--he doesn’t miss many details) he grasped your hands in his own, rubbing soothing circles on them with his thumbs. “Go on.”

“I’m sorry for assuming how you felt,” you murmur softly, emboldened enough by his physical reassurance to be able to formulate at least coherent sentences. “Let me make it up to you. Please.”

“Well, what should I have you do to make it up to me?” You were acutely aware that he was teasing you as a wolfish grin split across his face and he once again began to press his body against yours. This time, there was a slightly new feeling where his hips met yours.

You donned a sly grin of your own as you freed one hand to gently trail it down his chest and abdomen, your fingers hooking themselves on his gaudy white belt. “I can do whatever you want, babe.”


	5. the devil went down to georgia (crack)

“I bet I could play circles ‘round you ANYDAY!” you sneer, swinging a pointed finger at the flushed Prince of the Devildom, who had just slammed down his seventh Demonus shot of the night.

A smug grin took over his features nearly instantly. “Oh yeah?? Whaddaya say we make it anー an OFFICIAL wager?? You win: I’ll make a pact with you. I win: I get your soul,” he croons, a calculating look sifting around behind his golden irises. Well, that’s how it appears to the two numbskulls who had gotten completely trashed in the middle of one of Diavolo’s sleepovers; to the rest of the group, the ones who WEREN’T uncontrollably inebriated, it looks more like a blind man’s squint.

Where the two of you had gotten the alcohol from (particularly the HUMAN WORLD alcohol), they had no idea, although Solomon is looking particularly gleefully wicked at the sight before him.

“Lord Diavolo, I don’t think you should be making these sorts of wagers while in the condition you areー” Lucifer starts, clearly almost pissing himself at the thought of either Diavolo entering a pact with you OR you, one of Diavolo’s _prized_ human exchange students, giving your soul to the Devil because you are so under the influence that the influence had thrown on a strap-on and was currently fucking you in the ass, no lube in sight.

“Deal.” With a firm handshake (which took a good three attempts before you and Diavolo finally met each other’s hand) the proposition is sealed, and all the brothers can do is watch the event unfold before them. Some, like Mammon and Solomon, are giving their all in hyping you up because they want to see their Lord’s downfall. Others, like Lucifer, are busy burying their head into their hands, wishing with every fiber of their being that they aren’t currently being tasked with having to watch over two adults acting like three year-olds.

~~Actually, Lucifer is the only one doing that, but that’s not important.~~

What IS important is that you are going to wipe that smug look off of Diavolo’s face and show that bastard what a REAL fiddler can do. After your handshake, a beautifully crafted golden fiddle materializes out of thin air right into the palm of the Demon Prince’s hand, who then flaunts it off to everyone in the room. You do nothing but roll your eyesー he’s CLEARLY compensating for something.

“Well?? It’s not gonna play itself y’know,” you yawn, twisting your body in loose stretches that weren’t really doing much to stretch your body but at least made you feel professional. You took fiddling VERY seriously, as you’d been trained in the art practically since birth. There was even a myth in your family that you came out of your mother’s womb striking some wicked cords, and quite frankly, you wouldn’t be at all surprised if it were true.

You are _that_ good.

“Keep on talkin’, Y/N, ‘cause I think ‘m better than you.” Diavolo fixes his unfocused gaze on your swaying form before him, as the two of you had shakily gotten to your feet at some point.

“Are you drunk or delusional? ‘m the best there’s ever been! Those are bold words comin’ from a man who’s too scared to give his husband a good ol’ smack on the lips,” you accuse, your trusty pointer finger once again making a debut and gesturing wildly at Lucifer. Either your words, your point, or a combination of the two draws a gasp from Diavolo, who smacks your hand down before turning towards the demon of the hour himself.

“Lucyyy, tell them that’s not trueee,” he whines, stamping his foot on the ground while his lips perk out in a pout.

“I am not entertaining this conversation.”

“It’s true!” Tears spring to your eyes as you fall into a fit of hysterics, doubling over as snorts and wheezes sound in rapid fire succession. Why don’t you get drunk more often?? Everything is so much _funnier_ like this! Satan eyes you worriedly. Was it normal for humans to make such sounds so frequently? You truly are an enigma.

Now upset, Diavolo stumbles over to Lucifer, grabs him by the wrist (which earns him a very non-Lucifer-like squawk of protest), and slowly makes his way back to the table. With a commanding tone leaving no room for debate, he half shouts at Lucifer, “You’re playing with me!! We’re doing this!! Together!!!”

In usual Lucifer fashion, he responds with a pained sigh but summons a gold fiddle of his own. It matches Diavolo’s, of course. You squint your eyes at the sight before making a couple grabby motions with your own hand. No luckー seems like you’re not enough of a magic girl to make your own fiddle appear.

“Wait a minute!” you wail, flailing your arms about in protest. Mammon ducks in the nick of time, hardly avoiding being smack by your limbs overtaken by pure rage. “I need a fiddle too! Mines’ still at tha’ House of Lemonstation!”

“’Lemonstaー” Asmodeus snorts, covering his mouth with one of his delicately manicured hands. His nails, as per usual, are gorgeous, which is SO unfair because YOUR nails never turn out that good even when HE does them. Does that mean your nails are just cursed?? Probably. The universe couldn’t handle a fiddler with perfect nails, so they had to balance out your power. You nod sagelyー that must be it.

Meanwhile, Diavolo has been busy filling Lucifer in on his genius plan of attack. “So here’sー here’s what we’re gonna do. _I’ll_ go first, and then _you_ join in and we finish together!”

One of Lucifer’s gloved hands finds the bridge of his nose and pinches it, frustration simply _oozing_ out of his form. “And how, pray tell, does this work out? It’s not as if we’ve practiced this, nor do we have any music that we’re reading, so just _how_ am I supposed to know when you’re about to end?”

“C’mon, Lucy, we do this all the time!” Diavolo purrs, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. The action garners a light blush from the raven-haired demon, but otherwise, no response.

Having been waiting around enough (and on the brink of forgetting what you were supposed to be doing in the first place) you smack a hand against the table separating the demon fiddler dream-team and you. “I! Demand! A fiddle! And then let’s do this thang!”

Lucifer promptly summons a fiddle onto the table before you, only this fiddle was a regular wooden one. What. The fuck??

“Why isn’t this bitch gold too??” You flip it around in your hands, inspecting it from every angle as if there’s a magic button that’ll make it gold. You find no such button. Sticking the clearly-broken magic fiddle out at Lucifer, you shout, “This bitch broken!”

You then proceed to yeet the thing at him, only for Diavolo to swoop in and redirect it away from his mans and back at you. A startled ‘eep’ escapes you before Mammon, your valiant protector, trips over his own feet and falls in front of you, taking the smack of the instrument straight to his face and promptly knocking out. Without missing a beat, you snatch the fiddle up off of the floor and cradle it in your arms.

In your haste, you had nearly used the sacred thing in an act of violence, which would have broken the oath that all fiddlers have to take prior to becoming a fiddler. The oath being to never use a fiddle in an act of violence, of course.

Diavolo’s booming voice snaps you out of your thoughts. “ONE! TWO! A ONE TWO THREE FOUR!”

A burst of fire erupts from the tips of his fingers, and you can’t help but gawk at the sight of the demon firecracker. Bow meets string and a familiar twang rings through the air. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but something about it raises goosebumps on your skin. Not that he was good, oh God no, but there was something eerie about the sound his fiddle made.

After a few moments, Lucifer joins in, and you immediately know why Diavolo is smitten with him. He looks absolutely angelic as he gets to work on carrying Diavolo’s side of the bet, and you’re half convinced that a beacon of light envelops him as he plays. The only time you’ve seen someone play better than Lucifer was when you had played in front of a mirror. A blush raises to your cheeks and the undeniable urge to jump the man right then and there becomes the forethought in your mind.

When the two finish, you instantly capitalize on the opportunity to speak, your horny-ness getting the better of you. “I wanna change my side of the bet. If I win, I wanna sleep with your husband.”

“He’s off-limits!” Diavolo wraps his entire body around Lucifer, who just groans and glares up at the ceiling, very much wishing he could be anywhere else.

“Well, I’m still gonna kick your ass!” you declare, jumping up onto the table (with the assistance of Solomon) so you could tower over everyone else in the room. With one last cocky grin at Diavolo, you point your bow at him as you nestle your fiddle between your chin and shoulder. “You’re gonna wanna sit down, bub, because I’m gonna show ya how it’s done!”

With that, your bow marries the strings and the gates of Heaven open up as your music fills the air. Never before had the three realms heard such skilled playing. In fact, your playing far surpasses _skill_ ; your playing is an _art_. The brothers (plus Solomon and minus Lucifer) collectively begin to lose their shit. Diavolo passes out from the sheer perfection of your playing. God Himself appears to give you a fist bump and tells you to rock on.

That night shall forever go down in history as the most rad moment that RAD has ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a 1.6k crack fic birthed from my fever dream of MC completely shreddin it on a fiddle because of a drunk bet with Diavolo, with inspiration obviously directly taken from the CLASSIC song The Devil Went Down To Georgia


	6. "wait a minute... are you jealous?" (lucifer)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're back to requests! hope you all enjoy this little scene because I sure had a blast writing it. it's clocking in at 1.2k words, so it can hold its own out there :)

“Thanks, MC, you’re the best!” said Iros, a red-haired demon from your Summoning 101 class who always seemed to have a difficult time paying attention during instruction. More than once, you’d caught her doing the tell-tale head bob as if she was fighting a magnetic pull between her forehead and her desk, so it didn’t come as a surprise to you that her grades weren’t looking too hot. She sent you a wink before twirling away, her uniform skirt fanning out behind her. In an afterthought, she called out to you over her shoulder, “See you for our study date!”

With that, she disappeared into the steady stream of students drifting from one class to another. You couldn’t help the sigh that puffed out through your noseー there was something about her that drained you. Maybe it was her ability? You’ve gathered that all demons have something about them that separates them from other demons, like how Mammon was exceptionally fast. 

Speaking of, the grubby bastard was late. The two of you typically walked to History of Devildom together, but he seemed to be running late today.

Who are you kidding, he probably ditched again. You’d have to scold him for not taking you with him later. For now, you’ll continue to be the good student that you weren’t and go to class by yourself. Your husbando (who wasn’t yet your husbando but you’ve been working diligently on changing that), Lucifer, would be so proud of you, you mused, mentally patting yourself on the back for your decision to do the bare minimum.

“I am not opposed to your fraternizing with the other students, but I must discourage you from forming relationships with succubi.” Speak of the devil! Lucifer’s voice cut through the muddled conversations of the passing students as the man himself emerged from a nearby classroom. “I cannot even begin to fathom the numbers of succubi who would use you as nothing more than a stepping stone to tarnish Lord Diavolo’s reputation.”

“Succubi?” you hummed, more to yourself than anything as you ponder his words. “That explains why she’s always hitting on me. Damn. Here I thought I was just an irresistible slab of meat, charming the pants off of strangers left and right.”

The slab of meat comment earned you a disdainful eye roll, but nothing more. “Well? You’re going to arrive after the start of class if you continue to stand there like a mindless sheep.”

“I know I called myself meat, but the ‘sheep’ thing doesn’t sit right with me, especially coming from you,” you said with a hint of a whine laced in your tone. Nonetheless, you set off toward your next class by your lonesome, only for Lucifer to stride along next to you. 

Instantly, the wheels in your head took off spinning. You knew for a FACT that whatever class he had was in the opposite direction, as you and Mammon often passed him in the halls, so what was he doing in this direction? Was he making sure you weren’t going to ditch? You’d take offense to the idea if it wasn’t something you’ve already done. After that one idea, your mind drew a blank.

Peeking at him out of the corner of your eye, you noticed how he seemed to be somewhat lost in thought, but not lost enough for him to miss where your attention was directed. He raised a dark brow at you, daring you to say something.

Never one to miss such a golden opportunity, you gave a saccharine smile and batted your lashes innocently. “Sorry, it’s hard not to stare at works of art.”

He blinked once. Twice. Then turned away. Your lips perked out in a pout at the fact that your obvious flirtation had failed to garner any response, although this would do little to dissuade you in the future; every now and then you swore you’d see the corners of his lips twitch up into a ghost of a smile.

Anyway, back to the drawing board. Why was it that Lucifer was accompanying you to your class? You’d better figure it out sooner than later because the two of you were turning down the hall that housed your classroom. Luckily, yours was on the other end.

Asking him would be no fun at all, so that was quickly ruled out as an option, and so was dismissing the noticeably odd behavior. Had he finally realized his everlasting love for you, and was currently mentally preparing himself to propose? A quick glance to you right quickly eliminated that theory. Then, what was it? 

Every step brought you closer to your destination, as well as added a tiny piece of disappointment to your ever-growing pile. Before you had the chance to prematurely sink into a slump of self-pity, your D.D.D. buzzed in your skirt pocket to notify you that you had received a message over chat.

It turned out to be a message from Iros. _You should wear something nice when we meet up tonight. It’ll help me study better ;)_ Just reading it makes you snort in indignation.

_You wish._ As much of a shameless flirt as you could be, you couldn’t handle being on the receiving end of flirting. It most definitely didn’t have anything to do with the fact that your heart had locked its sights on a certain Tall, Dark, and Prideful who didn’t reciprocate your feelings. Subconsciously, your gaze drifted back toward Lucifer for what felt like the millionth time throughout this heartwarming little couple’s stroll. Oddly enough, he was fixing your D.D.D. with a steely glare.

“Uh, Lucy?” you asked slowly. No doubt about it, the man was acting weird. Maybe he had gotten food poisoning? That must be it! “Is something the matter?”

“I was unaware you and this succubi had gotten so close to one another,” he said, venom oozing from his voice. The spinning wheels in your head that had been working so tirelessly for the entirety of the past few minutes come to a screeching halt.

“Wait a minute…” How had you not seen it sooner? The answer was obvious. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head at the ludicrous thought. ”Are you jealous?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped back instantly, but there was a certain look in his eye that made you _sure_ he was lying. Your mouth curled into a cattish smirk as the two of you slowed to a stop outside of your classroom. It would seem that all of your flirting and waiting was finally paying off.

“Of course, of course,” you said, a melodic lilt woven into your words. With a sudden burst of courage that was even stronger than Beel, you took one of Lucifer’s gloved hands into your own and pressed a chaste kiss to it. Adrenaline pumping, you then flounced away as if you hadn’t just given THE Lucifer a good ol’ smack of your lips on his hand.

As expected, Lucifer lowly called out your name, subtly warning you to not walk away from him or else you’d be punished. How unlucky for him that the thought of him punishing you sent a shiver of pleasure along your spine. Looks like you’d have to let Iros know you wouldn’t be able to study after all, as you'd have your hands full with a certain irate demon.

You could hardly wait.


End file.
